


First Kiss

by Th3_Morrigan



Series: Firsts [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed - Freeform, Drabble Collection, F/M, First Kiss, Firsts, Fluff, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Th3_Morrigan/pseuds/Th3_Morrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble collection of firsts.</p>
<p>What would it be like experiencing the first kiss from your favorite Assassin?</p>
<p>I keep to their respective time periods, and try to keep as canon as I can. Try being the operative word.</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Altair

**Author's Note:**

> And by first kiss i don't necessarily mean passionately on the lips. This is purely fluff.

You were running along the rooftops, bow in hand. Altair was a few meters behind you, a Saracen soldier hot on his heels. You were getting close to the end of the building you were on, but the gap to the other side was too wide to jump. You had to take the soldier down. 

With a final burst of strength, you pushed yourself to close the distance to the railing at edge of the roof. In one swift fluid motion you jumped up on the railing while drawing an arrow and cocking it in your bow. By the time you're facing Altair, you're ready to fire.

"Down!" You yell, and let fly your arrow.

Altair rolls just as your arrow zips above his head and finds its mark behind him. 

Another guard appears behind him. You grab another arrow and aim.

Suddenly Altair gives a shout. You falter, losing your focus, then from the corner of you eye you realized your mistake. On a distant rooftop, an archer had taken aim at you. You saw him release his arrow, saw it come flying towards you.

Next thing you knew there was a searing pain in your arm and you were falling. You had enough time to think this was the end of the line for you. You only wished Altair got away okay.

Suddenly there were arms around you, holding you close.

"Brace," Altair's voice said in your ear. 

You tucked your head in just in time as both of you landed in a haystack.

You stayed immobile like that, his arms around you, your face pressed against his neck. There were angry shouts on the streets, as the guards searched in vain for the pair of you.

"They couldn't have gotten far!" Shouted a soldier right beside the haystack. "Search over there."

A few moments later, the guards moved on and the street fell quiet. Only then did you dare to move.

"Are you hurt?" Altair asks softly. His breath brushing your ear. You realize he was still holding you close. 

You looked up, his face so close to yours.

"I think it's just a graze."

He touches your shoulder, you wince. There was blood, but not much. It was starting to clot.

You are still looking up at him as he looks back at you. Your eyes meet and you find yourself unable to look away.

"Thank you for saving my life," he says.

"Thank you for saving mine."

His arms wrap tighter around you.

"I don't think I could forgive myself if anything happened to you."

You knew then and there just how much he cared for you. You could see it in his eyes. Apparently, he saw the same in yours. He moved his head closer, his lips meeting yours.

"Stay safe always," he whispered against your lips before kissing you.


	2. Ezio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble collection of firsts.
> 
> One day, while training with your Mentor...

"Defend!" Ezio barks at you as he lunges forward once more, his sword coming down on you.

You block his strike and swiftly move to the side, ready to deflect another barrage.

It doesn't come. Ezio had momentarily let his guard down and you move in to strike, thinking you would finally get the upper hand and end this sparring practice. Instead, he had anticipated your move, blocked your strike and, adding insult to injury, shoved you. You fought to keep your balance, but lost, and ended up sprawled on the ground.

You hear him chuckle behind you, and it's enough to rile you up. If he wants to play dirty, so be it. Never mind that he's your Mentor.

You quickly pick yourself back up. You circle your mentor, sword at the ready. It irks you that he's not even in a defensive stance. He's just standing there, sword held loosely in his hand, watching you.

Somehow this makes you more irritated than you already are. It must have shown on your face because he chuckles again.

"You are so pretty when you're angry," he says.

"Stop making fun of me," you say as you attack once more. 

He deflects. "I wasn't making fun."

You start attacking him relentlessly. "Do. Stop. Laughing!" You say, accentuating each word with a strike of your sword.

He backs up as he meets your attacks with his sword, until his back hits the wall. 

At last, you think. With one last swish of your sword, you disarm him. You smile triumphantly as you put your sword's blade to his neck.

"That wasn't fair," he said, still smiling. "I was distracted."

"Like it was fair that you pushed me," You retorted.

"Ah, yes, sorry for that, mio caro. But you really are pretty when you're angry." His hands move to your hips and pull you closer.

Your irritation starts to ebb and it's replaced by that giddy feeling you feel every time you see him. 

"Ezio, this is highly inappropriate," you yourself being inappropriate, not addressing him as Mentor.

"Mmm, so it is," he says pulling you closer until his forehead is touching yours. Then his eyes grow serious. "If you want this to stop, just say the word."

You think it over for a moment, and decide to remain silent.

He smiles, and pulls you in for a kiss. It is chaste and sweet, and short as it is, it has left you breathless all the same.


	3. Yusuf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble collection of firsts.
> 
> Yusuf's way of saying thank you.

It was late at night. You had just fallen asleep when you heard the heavy knock at the back door.

Knocks at the back door usually meant someone was in some sort of trouble and needed sorting out. You sighed, wishing the Assassins would keep to normal hours. 

You try to remember the time you signed up for this job, and realized you really didn't. It just sort of happened. You helped one Assassin then, their Master, Yusuf. You found him in the alley outside your shop, bleeding. You took him in, patched him up, and gave him some food. It was more out of pity than anything else. Next thing you knew that same Assassin started bringing his injured brothers to you.

You thought to protest, at first. You were a baker, not a doctor. But it was all they needed really, just some aid and temporary safe refuge. You found there were also a lot of benefits to be affiliated with these insurgents. They brought you gifts in return for your care and hospitality, mostly in the form of groceries from the market, sometimes in the form of cash (although you were never really comfortable taking coin from them, knowing it was likely stolen from someone else's purse). 

They also provided you with security. You did not know how many of them there were, but you knew there were enough of them to be keeping an eye out for their assets as well as targets. You had gotten mugged one day, and in the blink of an eye your mugger was down and a masked Assassin was handing you back your purse.

Then there was Yusuf. You found yourself growing more fond of him each time he came by. It was his infectious good nature that drew you to him. Even when he was bloody, there was always a smile on his face. 

Tonight was no exception, as you opened the back door and found him standing there smiling at you as if he didn't have a bleeding gash under his left cheek. 

"Did I wake you?"

"Yusuf, What happened?" you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes

"Janissaries," he said simply. 

You shook your head. Sometimes you wanted to know their business, but Yusuf insisted the less you knew, the safer you were.

"Over there by the table, then," you said, ushering him in. 

He sat himself down on a stool at the kitchen and leaned back, elbows on the table, ready to be patched up.

"I truly apologize for the intrusion at such an hour," he said, looking up at you as you stood in front of him and inspected the wound.

"Well, I can't have Assassins dying at my doorstep now, can I? That would be bad for business," you said, trying to lighten the mood. The gash didn't look too good. It was going to need stitches.

You dabbed the wound with an liquor-soaked rag. He hissed at the sting.

"If you could just learn to keep yourself out of trouble, you wouldn't be here and in pain right now."

"But I like coming over here," he said, smiling teasingly at you, despite the pain he must be feeling. 

"What, you hurt yourself intentionally just to have me patch you up?"

He chuckled. "There's an idea."

"You'll need stitches," you tell him.

He just nods and braces himself for the pain. You try to patch his cheek up as quickly as you could.

"Can I ask you a question," he said, voice turning serious as you worked on his gash.

You nodded.

"That first time you saw me in the alley, why did you help me, even if I didn't ask for your help then."

You shrugged. You didn't know exactly why either.

"I guess I felt sorry for you. It was raining and you were hurt. If I were in that situation, I guess I would be praying that someone would help me out too."

He fell silent then, as you continued to work.

"You're all patched up now," you said at length, stroking his cheek to get him to open his eyes. He had closed them some time ago while you were stitching him up.

He opened them now, his blue ones meeting your own. His hand went up to keep your hand on his cheek, and turned his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

"Thank you," he said, with all honesty and sincerity, "for this, and for everything."


	4. Jacob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble collection of firsts
> 
> You were sure you were dying, so where was he?

You were fuming.

It was bad enough that he had dragged you along to the brawl (which he provoked, by the way). You were the one who got shot at, you were the one in a world of pain right now, yet he was the one who had the nerve to get angry, lecture you on safety and precaution, and just leave you there at the doorstep of Ms. Nightingales to get yourself patched up.

Bastard.

You clenched your fist involuntarily and winced. The pain made you dizzy, and you crumpled to the ground. The bullet aimed at your head had lodged itself in your gauntlet instead, thanks to your quick reflexes. Unfortunately, it sent a shower of splinters that used to be the metal workings of your blade into your arm. 

Where was that bloody doctor?

You tried to knock, but the pain in your arm sapped you of strength. All you could manage was a thump on the door. Fortunately for you, someone was just at the other side.

The door opened and you were half helped half dragged into a room where you were finally tended to.

It took about an hour to get all the metal bits out of your arm. You cursed your way through the whole ordeal. They saved the deepest piece for last, though. It was a big one, part of the blade, and they had to dig into your arm to get it out. 

Already weak from pain and blood loss, you promptly fainted as they cut deeper into your arm to get to the shrapnel. Thankfully, you were still passed out when they cauterized your wounds.

When you finally came to, you found yourself lying on a gurney in the corridor of the hospital. You were still in terrible pain. You could hear screams from the other rooms, and were thankful at least your agony was over.

You closed your eyes once more, still weak and weary.

Just then you heard familiar voices coming from around the corner.

"I can't believe you just left her!" It was Evie. She sounded infuriated. They were coming down the hall.

"I brought her here. I didn't leave her on the street." Jacob's voice. You felt your anger return.

"Still, you left her here alone! Did you even make sure she was properly tended to?"

Silence.

Evie huffed. "Honestly, Jacob. If she's dead, it's on your head."

"She was shot in the bloody arm! How could she die?"

How indeed, you thought. If no one had heard you at the door you would have bloody bled out.

Evie made a sound out of frustration at her brother. 

You were too tired to open your eyes, still, so you kept them shut, waiting for them.

The sound of their booted feet turned the corner and stopped as they looked down both ends. 

"Oh god!" It was Jacob who spoke.

The sound of running boots reached you.

"Dammit, Jacob," Evie said quietly. "Is she...?"

Jacob's fingers were at your neck, checking for a pulse. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt it.

It was then you decided to open your eyes.

"You're a bloody bastard, Jacob Frye." It didn't come out angry like you intended. Instead it was more like a croak. 

"You're alive!"

He looked like he was about to cry.

"Why the bloody hell did you leave me?" you asked.

"God, What happened? I thought it was just a bullet wound?"

"My gauntlet shattered."

"I really am sorry." His tone was somber. You could tell he was suffering through this just as you were.

"I should have been there with you. I almost died when I saw you lying there in the hallway. You looked so pale, I thought for sure you were dead.

I know it wasn't the smartest thing to leave you at the hospital but I just...I was just so angry."

"You were angry at me?"

"No. No, not you." He stroked your hair tenderly. "Never you."

"I was angry at the git who shot you. When I saw you go down, I thought I didn't even get the chance to tell you-"

His face contorted. It was obvious he was struggling.

Evie gave him nudge. He cleared his throat.

"I didn't even get the chance to tell you-"

He pressed his lips to your forehead.

"-that I love you."

"Oh, Jacob," you sighed, before promptly fainting again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting facts I dug up about surgery in the Victorian era:   
> Anesthesia was non-existent during the early Victorian era, although in the 1840's thereabouts they started using ether as an anesthetic. The only trouble with it was it was highly flammable and was not a very good idea to use back then when their hospitals were candle-lit.   
> The only recourse for a broken leg was amputation, as they did not yet know how to set broken bones properly.   
> Also, they were just beginning to see the correlation between cleanliness of the operating rooms and patient mortality. 
> 
> So glad we don't live in that day and age


	5. Shaun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaun being an ass but he still gets a kiss.

She had arrived with Bill. He introduced her as Lucy's "replacement". I knew, of course, what he meant. Someone had to take her place, do her job, but I was still appalled at his choice of words. 'Replacement'. As if a person were so easy to substitute.

So, merely out of spite for Bill and the new girl, that is what I called her.

"Hello, Replacement," I said, and walked away. 

Rebecca was furious, but apologised to them on my behalf. "You'll have to excuse Shaun. He's always been a jerk. And with what's been happening lately..."

Yes, things of late weren't going well. Not only did we lose Lucy, but Desmond was still unconscious, and we hadn't the slightest idea if he would make it.

It was Bill's suggestion to stick Desmond in the Animus. He had asked the Replacement for her opinion. She explained it in computer jargon only Rebecca could appreciate. Rebecca translated it as being a good idea.

She wasn't entirely useless, which was good for the team, but somehow added to my annoyance. Despite always smiling and being overly cheerful, she did know her stuff. She eased herself into Lucy's job and in a day we were back to running like clockwork. The only job she didn't fill in was Team Leader, thank God. Bill took care of that.

She was also the one who booked the flight back to the States, contacted a friend who knew a friend. Unfortunately, the flight would only be good for the Animus with Desmond in it, and two others.

As luck would have it, Bill and Rebecca would escort Desmond. And I would be stuck travelling with her.

I admit I didn't make things easy for her since her arrival. I am aware that I could be condescending, and I am aware I have a tendency to be rude, but somehow with her it came out tenfold. She wasn't dense, at least, and learned to keep her distance.

I was a little apprehensive to be traveling alone with her for so many hours. I knew it would be uncomfortable. There was no Rebecca around to chat her up (for my sake) or keep me in check (for her sake). I feared we would come out of this trip mortal enemies.

Surprisingly, she kept to herself the whole time. The trip to the airport was quiet. We were like strangers, she keeping to her seat, me to mine. We minded our own business.

I should have been content with that, but when we got on the plane, I was starting to have a tinge of regret for treating her so horribly. 

I surprised myself then for realizing I could actually feel empathy for someone else. I decided to sleep the rest of the way before I actually grew a heart. Besides, there was no time like the present to catch up on sleep, glorious sleep. So I slept.

I awoke hours later to the dim interior of the cabin. I panicked at first, not knowing where I was and having the vague feeling that I had to get away. As I slowly regained my bearings, I started to relax.

By my watch I was out for 4 hours. I told my sleep-addled brain to go back to sleep. The pillow under my head was soft and smelled like vanilla. It was pleasant, reminding me of home and I tried to bury my face deeper into the pillow when I suddenly realized...

Oh my God, I've cuddled up against her. 

The arm rest between us was put away. My head was resting on her shoulder, not a bloody pillow. Her arm was around me, and my hand was holding her other hand. What the bloody hell?

I startled then, bolting upright in my seat. She jerked awake.

"Oh, thank god you're awake. My shoulder is killing me." She yawned and shifted in her seat away from me.

"Why were you holding my hand?" I demanded, whispering as not to awaken the other passengers.

She looked at me and whispered back rather irritably. "You were the one who freaking curled up against me and held my hand, Shaun. I wouldn't have endured 4 freaking hours of that."

"Why didn't you wake me."

"Believe me, I tried. Besides..." she started to say, then trailed off. 

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, what? You kind of liked it?" I quipped, rolling my eyes at her for added effect.

She frowned at me. "I'd rather cuddle up to a dumpster, asshole." She slammed the armrest back down, dividing the space once more. "You were dreaming. Noisily I might add. And, you're welcome for keeping you quiet so the other passengers wouldn't be pissed off at you for making so much damn noise in your sleep. I should have just let them throw you off the plane." She turned her back on me then and tried to go back to sleep.

That smarted, but I suppose I deserved it. 

"I was dreaming?" 

She turned to me. "Nightmare, more like. You were calling out to Lucy and Desmond."

Damn. 

"Look, I'm not new to this, Shaun. I have been through my own fair share of fucked-up shit, and I have seen other people go through worse." Her expression softened. "If you won't be such a bitch about it, I'm here if you need me."

Now she really did make me feel bad.

"I'm sorry." I said. What else was there to say?

She looked like she wanted to say something, probably to give me a piece of her mind, but she hesitated and sighed instead.

"Do you want me to put this up?" she asked, indicating to the arm rest.

I nodded.

It was one thing to be told that I needed someone. It was a different thing altogether to realize that I actually did. She was right, of course. We've all had our share of fucked-up shit and, like it or not, we did need each other's support. I was scared to admit I needed someone, even to simply just be there. 

God knows Rebecca and Lucy tried to reach out to me, and I returned their good intentions with rude banter. I didn't need it then. I was just fine.

But now, after the Templar attack at our hideout, after Lucy and Desmond, I didn't feel all that fine anymore.

She lifted the arm rest and I settled down beside her. She offered her shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said. "I won't tell."

I rested my head on her shoulder once more and drifted off to sleep. Some time later I jerk awake from a dream, and she was there to hold my hand.

"Shh," I hear her whisper, "it's alright." And she planted a kiss on my head. 

And for the first time in a long time, I felt that everything was alright.


End file.
